on safety

I just checked my phone to see if I had any good pictures of probably the best dinner I ever had last night and instead I found that the camera on my phone had been turned to the video recording mode. I usually make sure to turn it back to the camera mode because I am someone who would miss a shot because I accidentally took a video of it instead of a picture. I am also the kind of person who would eat the entire dark chocolate and almond bar that my mom gave me yesterday as a birthday gift even though I just got it yesterday and even though I just saw a museum exhibit at the Museum of Science and Industry that said you would gain 27 pounds in a year if you ate a candy bar every day.

I have taken a few videos on my phone, but at this juncture, I am unsure of what to do with this particular medium, so I was surprised that it should be on video recording mode. I found some pictures of total blackness, taken from the inside of my winter parka pocket. And then I found a recording. There was no video (except for the fascinating insides of my pocket) but the audio recording was pretty clear. Crunching snow, some static, and a Jersey Shore accent. Because that's what we did last night. We crunched through the snow, slipped across the ice, and fell into our jokes, accents that started out as a straight-from-Italia, mama's kitchen, and as we hopped off the bus, shifted to accents of generations later- the cast from Jersey Shore. We have different accents and characters we play when we are walking the 15 minutes from the bus stop to  home and I'm sure it's bizarre but right now we are going through an Italian phase, maybe from the pleasure of cooking or joy of delicious food. It's gotten to the point that I can't get That's Amore out of my head.

It started out when we pretended to be burritos and I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. You thought it was pretty weird but couldn't help laughing (mostly at me and my laughter). You were the best at tucking me in bed, so I guess you figured you might as well take it one step further and made me into a burrito. That one got to the point that when the neonatal resident talked about how they wrap babies in blankets "like burritos," Oh I know all about that accidentally slipped out of my mouth to my friend standing next to me. You know about this swaddle? the resident asked. No... I was just saying that I know about burritos. Sorry.

 But this feeling has defined the past eight months. Being wrapped up, warm, and safe. I'm lucky I know because it's cold outside and some people have to be outside all the time. I've gotten into this habit that I haven't told anybody about, not even you. Each night as I'm falling asleep, there's a moment that I relish, and I wait to experience it each night. It takes a moment to settle into bed, rest my head and then it comes, a feeling of safety and well-being. You're here, inside and safe. My brother is home. He's okay. My mom and my dad. I imagine each person I love being inside and safe. They are where cold wind, library fines, people saying mean things about them, loneliness, and icy sleet hitting their faces couldn't touch them.

When I was a kid, I pretended to have a secret watch that I could use to communicate with Samantha, who is a pillow that used to be my comfort object. Samantha was the captain and would convey all my messages to my other stuffed animals and I could hear from them when I was away throughout the day. I don't think I ever actually thought about it except when I was already home and in bed and thus would need no secret watch communication, but I always fell asleep better knowing that if I ever needed it, it would be there. I'm not a timid person, but I started daycare when I was very young. I guess this new habit of mine is the grown-up version and I just wanted to let you know that you give me that.